


stars and shadows aren't good to see by

by Whovian_Overload



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Byzantium re-write, F/M, also blind!river, episode rewrite, episode: s05e3/4, equals angst, in which river's time sense in properly addressed, the one and only fic i write without timebabies in it lmao, younger!doctor and older!river
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whovian_Overload/pseuds/Whovian_Overload
Summary: “You’re just a recording,” River says aloud. She doesn’t really believe it now, but she’s trying very hard not to let the panic that’s rising in her spill out. “You can’t move.”Slowly, and with two eyes on the Angel, River takes the remote from a side table. She grabs it firmly and presses the power-down.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a ton to HellNHighHeels for proofreading and to RegalPotato for the title idea (via Mark Twain). Love you both <3
> 
> This whole thing is like 13k so I thought it might be best to split it into 3 chapters
> 
> Enjoy (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“What do you think? It's from the security cameras in the Byzantium vault.” River explains. The bulky remote in her hand points at a screen nearly the size of the wall she’s facing. A black and white image of a stone angel is displayed, it’s hands covering its face as if it were crying. The screen glitches every few seconds and the time signature returns from 00:11:28:04 to 00:11:24:23 every time it does. 

 

The Doctor takes a few tentative steps towards the screen and Amy plants herself next to River who continues, “I ripped it when I was on board. Sorry about the quality. It's four seconds—I've put it on loop.”

 

“Yeah, it's an Angel,” the Doctor murmurs. “Hands covering its face.”

 

River tries not to call him Captain Obvious. She isn’t thick— she knows what a Weeping Angel is. The fact that he’s familiar, however, is a lovely ripe clue to when he is: Early days. “You've encountered the Angels before?” River asks carefully. 

 

“Once, on Earth, a long time ago—but those were scavengers, barely surviving,” he replies a bit nonchalantly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

 

“But it's just a statue,” Amy’s voice chimes in next to River’s ear. Oh, she really is young. Even younger than her Doctor. How long have the two of them been traveling together? Mere weeks, River is starting to think. 

 

This might complicate things. 

 

“It's a statue when you see it,” River says as steadily as she can. 

 

The Doctor suddenly unfolds his arms and gets a little more close than necessary. River can see the gears turning in his head as he asks, “Where did it come from?”

 

“Oh, pulled from the ruins of Razbahan, end of last century. It's been in private hands ever since—Dormant all that time.”

 

He turns away from her and looks back at the recording. “There's a difference between dormant and patient.”

 

Amy is starting to get a little annoyed at being the slow one on the uptake. “What's that mean, ‘it's a statue when you  _ see _ it?’”

 

“The Weeping Angels can only move if they're unseen. So legend has it,” River supplies, though she knows very well that it’s never been just a legend— 

 

“No, it's not a legend,” the Doctor interrupts. River holds her breath and tries not to glare at him for stealing her thoughts. “It’s a quantum lock. In the sight of any living creature, the Angels literally cease to exist. They're just stone. The ultimate defense mechanism.”

 

“What, being a stone?” Amy frowns.

 

“Being a stone until you turn your back,” he says quietly, offering Amy a smile. 

 

“Doctor?” It’s Octavian’s voice that breaks the seconds of silence. River doesn’t look at the man, but Amy and the Doctor are attentive. “Have you found anything?”

 

It's a tad strange how the Doctor goes baby-faced. It doesn’t suit this face when he already looks like a prepubescent boy. Someone asks for a plan and off the Timelord goes, rambling about hyperdrives and burn radiation as he marches right out of the dropship with Amy on his tale. 

 

Idiot. 

 

River sighs and sits down on a crate, pinching the bridge of her nose. It should’ve been fine. It’s not like this is the first out-of-sync-Doctor River has encountered—far from it, actually. 

 

It’s been nearly a year of trying to get pardoned, going from one mission to the next with nothing but a ‘we’ll see about it’ from the wardens like she’s some sort of toddler who’s demanding the impossible. 

 

Freedom is not impossible. She dines with freedom every other night, regardless of what her minders have to say about it. What _is_ impossible, apparently, is meeting a Doctor who knows her twice in a row.

 

It’s her own fault for expecting him to be older. All it does is create disappointment and longing for just a few days ago when he held her in bed and told her to never leave. 

 

And Amy… River had just been over for dinner with her parents last month. She tells herself it doesn’t hurt to be laughing with her one moment and be meeting her for the first time the next.

 

It’s no use getting upset over and perhaps there’s a little use in pretending she’s not already doing so. There’s a job to be done and 6 million human colonists who live on this planet. It can’t be about her right now. It can’t even be about him. 

 

River takes a breath and looks around the empty dropship. She can hear the Doctor outside, still going on about how the local population should be evacuated. She glances back at the footage she’d escaped with and—

 

Now that can’t be right.

 

River tries not to jump to conclusions, walking quickly to the door. “Octavian?”

 

“What is it, Dr. Song?” He, Amy, and the Doctor are discussing something around a table. She figures she’ll get informed if it’s anything important.

 

“Did you find another clip of the Angel?”

 

“No, just the four seconds you gave us,” he answers and her stomach only twists a little. 

 

By her feet, there’s an old leather-bound book. She knows it because she put it there herself. She’d meant to show the Doctor, but it looks like they’re going to have to split up the jobs. The video needs her attention. 

 

River picks up the book and throws it at the trio. “Catch!” 

 

Amy is the only one quick enough not to let the book fall to the ground. “What this?”

 

“One of the only definitive works on the Angels. Have a look, I’ve got to check something out.” With that, she turns to go back into the dropship. 

 

The Angel definitely moved. 

 

It faces River fully, its arms by its sides and palms outward like some sort or ritual. River gives it her best glare as she glances just for a moment at the time stamp to make sure it hasn’t changed

 

When she looks back up, the Angel is even closer and its arms a bit more raised. River steps back, barely stifling a gasp. 

 

Behind her, the door slams shut and this time she does jump.

 

“You’re just a recording,” River says aloud. She doesn’t really believe it now, but she’s trying very hard not to let the panic that’s rising in her spill out. “You can’t move.”

 

Slowly, and with two eyes on the Angel, River takes the remote from a side table. She grabs it firmly and presses the power-down. 

 

The screen flickers to dark but River isn’t even able to let her breath out before the image comes back on, even closer this time. She tries again but the monitor switches itself back on again. And again. And again.

 

She stops after a few tries, realizing this is getting her nowhere. “You can’t hurt me,” River whispers and if her voice shakes a bit, the Angel doesn’t comment.

 

Cautiously, River steps in close enough to the lead cable to give it a yank. She gives it quite a few good yanks, actually. She looks down just for a second to see if it’s caught on anything and when she looks up a stone face looks back at her much too close for comfort. River jumps back, her hearts beating faster than she gives them any right to.

 

Time for backup then. She backs up to the door maintaining eye contact with the recording. The door proves just as movable as the cable had been. “Ugh! Open, damn you!” River looks to see if anything can be unlocked from the inside and when she looks back, the Angel is snarling. 

 

Blindly, River tries random inputs on the keypad by the door, slamming it with her fist when she gets nowhere. “Doctor!”

 

There’s no answer for a long moment and she’s almost sure the idiot has wandered off and forgotten she’s in here. She’s actually considering shouting for Octavian instead when she finally hears a response. 

 

“River?” The Doctor sounds worried and she rather hopes she doesn’t have to waste too much time on explaining the situation.

 

She can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes her, however short-lived it may be. It’s just one blink, one mere fraction of a second that she lets her guard down and suddenly the Angel is climbing out of the screen. 

 

“Doctor! It's in the room!

 

“What's happening?” Amy’s voice comes quieter and than the Doctor’s and River dreads to think how messy it would be if Amy had to watch her die today. Better try not to die then.

 

“It’s coming out of the television,” River supplies. “The Angel.”

 

“Don't take your eyes off it. Keep looking. It can't move if you're looking,” the Doctor jitters through the door. 

 

“I’m not an idiot, sweetie. I know how these things work,” River snaps back. Under her breath, she adds, “I just didn’t think I’d have to worry about a bloody recording trying to kill me.”

 

She hears the sonic humming around the door, then a thump she can only assume is out of frustration. “What’s wrong. Can you get the door open?”

 

“It’s deadlocked,” the Doctor huffs. 

 

“There is no deadlock!” 

 

Amy’s curiosity pipes up again—trust her to ask the questions in a situation like this. “How can it be deadlocked if there’s no deadlock?”

 

“I don’t know,” the Doctor falters, then tries to theorize (and fails spectacularly). “The Angel did a thing, probably. A clever thing that I can’t undo right now.”

 

River can picture it so clearly: the Doctor pacing and flapping his hands about while Amy watches him crossed arms. It’s not a bad last thought, as far as last thoughts go, but she’s not planning on dying at the moment. “Try cutting the power from the outside.” 

 

There’s a moment of shuffling outside the door, the sound of the sonic again, and then, “No good, it's deadlocked the whole system.”

 

River sighs, trying her best not to blink. “Can you just cut the door open, or something?”

 

“There is no way in. It's not  _ physically _ possible,” he fumes. She knows it’s only because he hates not having results within five minutes of intervention. She makes a mental note to tell him to get used to that. “Can you turn it off?”

 

“Tried that. Didn't work.” Really, did he think she would’ve called for him if she hadn’t already exhausted all other resources?

 

“Try again,” he orders.

 

River resists the urge to roll her eyes lest the Angel move again. Carefully, she steps over to where she left the remote and picks it up again. Taking a deep breath, she clicks the power off again. The Angel flicks it back on and comes even closer.

 

River flinches, not daring to try again. “It just keeps switching back on.”

 

“How is it even in there with her?” It’s Amy again, though River finds this is a question she’d like the answer to as well. “It’s just a recording.”

 

“No, anything that takes the image of an Angel is an Angel,” the Doctor corrects.

 

This catches River’s attention. “What did you say?” 

 

“The image of an Angel is an Angel,” Amy repeats. 

 

“Where did you hear that?”

 

“It’s in the book you gave us.” She hears Amy pause with a thought. “Doctor, what's it going to do to her?”

 

The Doctor doesn’t answer, his voice coming more solemnly than before. “River, you have to get that screen off.”

 

“Really, what gave you that idea?” River quips. She’s missing something, she can feel it.  _ The image of an Angel is an Angel _

 

Oh, that’s it.

 

River spares a glance at the time signature, still proudly repeating it’s four seconds. She grips the remote in her hand and starts to count the next cycle. One, two, three… 

 

On the fourth second, she turns the screen off again.

 

The holographic Angel before her glitches and greys out then fades completely into nothing. A black screen is the only thing staring at her now as the door unlocks and Amy and the Doctor rush in. 

 

He’s all work, brushing past her with the sonic in one hand and book in the other. He tucks the book under his arm and grabs the lead cable from the outlet. It actually comes out of its socket this time and he quickly sonics it. “You got it?”

 

“There was a blip in the tape and I froze it on the blip,” River says as schooled as she can manage. 

 

“That was good!” Amy is next to her and looking quite impressed. “Really, that was amazing!”

 

“Amy, hug River,” the Doctor instructs. His nose is already back in that book. 

 

“Why?” Amy asks.

 

“Because she’s not dead and I’m busy.”

 

“I’m pretty good at not being dead,” River mutters, missing the way the Doctor flinches at her words. 

 

The hug is a little awkward, but River finds herself appreciating all the more.

 

“So it was here? That was the Angel?” Amy asks, letting River out of her arms. 

 

“That was a projection of the Angel,” the Doctor answers distractedly. “It's reaching out, getting a good look at us. It's no longer dormant.” He looks up from the book and right at River. It’s probably the first time he’s done so all day without looking right through her.

 

She stares back at him, waiting for him to say whatever it is he’s going to say. He keeps staring wordlessly until she starts to glare. “ _ What _ ?” 

 

“Did you look at its eyes?”

 

“What?” This time the word is softer and caught off guard. “I couldn’t exactly look away, could I. Why?”

 

He goes quiet again and hands her the book, open to an aged, yellowing page. River hesitantly skims the passage, finding what the Doctor seems so put off about easily.

 

_ The eyes are not the windows of the soul. They are the doors. Beware what may enter there. _

 

She tries to ignore the immediate feeling of sand in her eyes. 

 

* * *

 

“We’re in the middle of an army. And it’s waking up.”

 

River can practically smell the adrenaline rush of the soldiers, though she’s slightly more distracted at the fact that Amy is now hovering close to her with the instinct that next to River is the safest place to stand. 

 

She’d be right in most circumstances. 

 

Octavian’s frantic tone as he reaches for his comms is still almost as level as his normal tone, which River shouldn’t find herself annoyed with but she is a bit. “Bob, Angelo, Christian, come in, please. Any of you, come in.”

 

“It's Bob, sir,” a young voice responds; The boy who had gotten so scared a few hours ago that he’d gone and shot one of the statues. If only they’d known how right he’d been. “Sorry, sir.”

 

“Bob, are Angelo and Christian with you?” Octavian presses. “All the statues are active. I repeat, all the statues are active.”

 

“I-I know, sir. Angelo and Christian are dead, sir. The statues killed them, sir.”

 

The Doctor snatches the communicator out of Octavian’s hands, somehow oblivious to the silence that settles over everyone else. 

 

No one dares to blink.

 

“Bob, Sacred Bob, it's me, the Doctor,” the Doctor talks fast as Octavian shakes out of his shock. 

 

“I'm talking to—” Octavian frowns.

 

“Where are you now?”

 

“I'm talking to my—” The bishop tries again and this time gets a hand in his face.

 

“Yeah, yep, yeah shut up.” 

 

River sets her jaw, wondering if the Doctor knows how stupid he sounds. At least Amy doesn’t suffer fools and appropriately rolls her eyes.

 

“I'm on my way up to you, sir,” Bob says. “I'm homing in on your signal.”

 

“Ah, well done, Bob. Scared keeps you fast. Told you, didn't I.” The Doctor looked as pleased as a boy who’s just taught his dog a new trick. “Your friends, Bob, What did the Angel do to them?” 

River waits for the other shoe to drop.

 

“Snapped their necks, sir.”

 

Octavian and a few other soldiers glace at River. She’d told them how the Angels operated before the mission started. All their information had come from her. This is new to all of them. 

 

“That's odd. That's not how the Angels kill you,” the Doctor is pacing now. “They displace you in time... Unless they needed the bodies for something.” 

 

In the Doctor’s moment of distraction, Octavian tries to get the communicator back. “Bob, did you check their data packs for vital signs? We may be able to initiate a rescue plan—”

 

“Oh, don't be an idiot,” the Doctor huffs, taking back the device like an overly selfish toddler. “The Angels don't leave you alive. Bob, keep running. But tell me, how did you escape?”

 

“I didn't escape, sir. The Angel killed me, too.”

 

There are a number of exchanged glances at that. Octavian and the Doctor share airspace for the first time in an hour as the realization washes over them. River looks at her not-yet-mother with nothing less than dread.

 

This is where it goes wrong with the Doctor. He showed off when he was younger. And he  _ is _ younger. Mix that with too much arrogance and one has an overcompensating Timelord dragging a wonder-struck human to gaze into the eyes of death like it’s of the galaxy's greatest tourist attractions. 

 

“We’ve got to go,” she hears Octavian say. The soldiers start shuffling past her. She takes Amy’s hand and follows.

 

River doesn’t really have the time to be mournful over Bob. She hadn’t known him well, but he was kind to her, at least. It’s a rare thing to come by: kindness towards one of the most notorious assassins ever to live. 

 

Regardless of being her sponsors, even the clergymen find it hard to be around her—she can see it in their faces any time they look at her. Not Bob, though, which either meant he hadn’t done his homework, or he really didn’t see her as so much of a monster. 

 

The pathways are narrow, but the lot of them are fast. The Doctor has somehow gotten ahead of the group, pretending (and probably genuinely thinking) he has the same authority as Octavian. 

 

He will if he gets them out of this. 

 

_ When _ , River reminds herself. It has to be a when because Amy isn’t even married yet and neither is her husband, come to think of it. They both have so much coming, so much they need to do.

 

But time can be rewritten.

 

Time travel is odd like that. Everything seems like it ought to be set in stone and then something like this happens. Something like this  _ always _ happens where death looks over your shoulder like a contemplating cat and suddenly Time is as heavy as a boulder. 

 

River has to stop running for just that reason. Time pushes on her ears, ringing and fluctuating so dizzyingly that he has to steady herself to keep from rocking. 

 

She grabs a stone rail—some architecture left from the Applans. The others flow past her, pressing forward through the tunnels like their lives depend on it. They probably do, but Time wouldn’t get so fussy over these humans. River dreads to think of the real reason Time can’t stay still.

 

Octavian is the last in line and pauses next to her with his torch and gun and hand. “Doctor Song, we have to keep moving.”

 

“I-I know. I’m coming,” she breathes, pushing down nausea as best she can. 

 

A figure comes hurrying back down the stone corridor opposite the direction the rest of the men went. Octavian cocks his gun at it until his torch reveals that it’s only the Doctor. The Timelord has the communicator clutched in his hand, the direct line the Angel.

 

“There’s a small clearing, the Byzantium is right above it about 30 feet up,” the Doctor says, out of breath as he hands the comms back to the bishop.

 

“Any other exists?” Octavian asks.

 

“No,” he huffs. River suspects he meant to sigh but had a bit of muscular confusion around the bronchi. 

 

“Then we get out through the wreckage.” Determination sets in the bishop's tone. 

 

The Doctor looks like he’s going to go back when he turns to Octavian. “Sorry I called you an idiot before, but there's no way we could have rescued your men.” Whether this is a terrible apology or an attempt at getting the last word in is unclear.

 

Octavian’s expression is as hard as the stone cavern. “I know that, sir. And when you've flown away in your little blue box, I'll explain that to their families. “

 

River may have taken slight amusement to see the Doctor’s arrogance knocked down a peg if it weren’t also the exact same moment she tries to move her hand. Her attention is very quickly drawn away from the bickering men. 

 

They don’t pay her much notice, staring for a moment dripping with testosterone as fiercely as they can at each other—admittedly, the bishop makes a promising opponent in terms of battle-weary glares. 

 

The Doctor nearly hisses as he speaks into the receiver again. “Angel Bob. Which Angel am I talking to? The one from the ship?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Bob’s voice answers promptly and even River doesn’t miss the way Octavian shuts his eyes. “And the other Angels are still restoring.”

 

“Ah, so the Angel is not in the wreckage,” smugness returns to the Doctor’s face. “Thank you.”

 

Octavian tries not to get too huffy about it as the Doctor runs off to rejoin the others. He turns to River. “We have to move.”

 

“Don't wait for me. Go ahead,” River swallows. “Go, run.”

 

“I can’t let you out of my sight, Doctor Song,” he reminds her like he hasn’t been breathing down her neck for days. 

 

“I can’t move,” she says almost in a whisper. 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Look at it. Look at my hand.” She’s refusing to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the tunnel behind her where the other Angels are bound to catch up with them. “It's stone.”

 

Octavian looks at the hand in question with an ever-deepening frown. “Doctor Song, your hand is not stone.”

 

“It is, look at it,” she growls. “Do you honestly think I’d fuck with you at a time like this?”

 

“I think these are things down here that can play tricks on… minds.” She hears, unspoken,  _ minds like yours.  _

 

“Things like Angels?” She doesn’t bother hiding the agitation in her tone. 

 

“I’m not sure I understand you, Doctor Song,” Octavian says levelly, “But you  _ can _ move your hand and I’m going to need you to do it now.” He steadies the gun and torch in the direction of the dark tunnel behind them. 

Exasperatedly, River tries to explain the situation, briefing over the information in the book.  _ The eyes are not the windows, they are the doors.  _

 

“And you looked? You looked into the eyes of an Angel?”

 

“Well it’s not like I could look away,” she snaps, giving her hand another yank. It stays where it is. “It was coming out of the screen!”

 

“Listen to me,” Octavian whispers and she hopes the desperation in his tone isn’t to do with the creatures lurking in the dark. “It's messing with your head. Your hand is not made of stone.”

 

“It is. Look at it,” she’s getting fed up with him telling her otherwise. “Octavian you have to go.”

 

“It's in your mind, I promise you. You can move your hand. You can let go.”

 

“What part of ‘it’s made of stone’ are you not getting?” 

 

“The Angel is going to come and it's going to turn this light off, and then there's nothing I can do to stop it, so do it. Concentrate. Move your hand. “

 

It’s possible, she contemplates, that he could be right. Maybe her hand isn’t stone, but that doesn’t change the fact that no matter how hard she pulls, it doesn’t budge. “I can't.”

 

“Then we're both going to die.”

 

River tries not to slap him with her good hand. “Don’t be an idiot. You're not going to die if you stop trying to be all honorable about it. I’m not worth dying for. I’m really not.”

 

“They'll kill the lights.” His voice is still annoyingly level.

 

“Then bloody well leave!” 

 

The lights flicker and River can’t turn far enough around to see, but she’s sure that humanoid stone as now the subject of Octavian’s aim. “Keep your eyes on it,” she reminds. “Don't blink. Just back up slowly and get out of here.”

 

“You see, I'm not going. I'm not leaving you here. The Lord guides me not to.”

 

“Then you will die stupid,” she growls and under her breath adds, “and with an arrogant god.”

 

“You can move your hand,” he breathes like talking too loud will crumble the walls around them. 

 

“It's  _ stone _ . I’m sure I’ve mentioned that a few times.”

 

“It's not stone.”

 

River shuts her eyes against a sigh because if there’s any way she refuses to die, it’s bickering with a cleric about the material her hand his made of. “Your men are up there waiting for you. If you stay here with me, you'll have as good as killed them.”

 

He pauses. “River Song, you are a brave woman. And... I'm sorry.”

 

“Me too,” she whispers. 

 

Why does it have to be Octavian who hears her last breath and not the Doctor? The universe could at least have been courteous enough to give her Him. Though now that she thinks about it, it’s probably best that her husband doesn’t see her die before he even knows her. That would really make the future a bit awkward. “Now go on. Don’t die a hero’s death over me. Get out of here”

 

“Oh, I'm not leaving you,” he says, almost as matter-of-factly as the Doctor when he has a clever trick up his sleeve. Before she can protest, he adds, “I'm sorry about  _ this _ .” Octavian’s gun clatters to the ground to free up a hand.

 

There are two things River can say about what happens next. 

 

The first is that Octavian must have learned, after being around her for so many years, that if one wants to lay a hand on River Song without promptly dying of a broken neck, one has to be incredibly fast and clever. 

 

The second is that she’s glad it’s her non-dominant hand. 

 

Any thoughts after this are null as her mind goes white with pain and a scream she didn’t know she could make echoes so far down the Applan maze that she’s sure even Angel Bob falters in his tracks. 

 

The next thing she knows is that’s there’s stone hitting her knees and she’s sure for a moment the corridor has collapsed until she realizes she has. Her stone hand is cradled reverently against her chest and proving itself very much flesh by nothing less than bleeding profusely around the knife lodged in it and soaking the fabric of her uniform. 

 

“You… bastard....” she stops because if she does anything but focus on breathing at the moment she’ll vomit. 

 

Octavian grabs her arm, hauling her to her feet. “I do apologize, Doctor Song. It was either that or a bullet and I think this with leave less of a scar. Don’t pull the knife out, you’ll only bleed more.”

 

She knows that. She feels like she should know that but all she can think about is the throbbing pain in her hand radiating down her arm with every double pulse of her now racing hearts. 

 

Pressure in her ears surges up again and the world starts to spin. The Doctor’s voice rings in her head,  _ Have we done the Byzantium yet?  _

 

He’d asked that of her some months ago in the dim light of a lamp on a street corner. His hands had taken hers, fingers gently ghosting over the scar he’d fully expected to interrupt his exploration of her palms. 

 

Except that he hadn’t asked that. And he hadn’t looked for the scar on her hand. She remembers him asking… and she remembers him not. The walls shift around her and she nearly loses balance. 

 

This is never a good sign.

 

Octavian’s communicator goes off. It’s one the men she’s pretty sure who’s name starts with an M but can’t be bothered with right now. He sounds reasonably frightened. “The statues are advancing along all corridors except yours. And, sir, my torch keeps flickering.”

 

“They all do,” Octavian responds to the communicator, his own torch dimming again.

 

“What was that scream?”

 

The bishop looks at River without answering his cleric. “Can you walk?”

 

“I have a feeling I’m not allowed to answer ‘no’.” River tries to straighten up and if her voices quivers as much as her body does, Octavian doesn’t comment. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Doctor Song and I are on our way,” he mutters into the communicator. The cleric doesn’t have the bravery to question why they had taken so long. 

 

The men part like scared fish when she and Octavian arrive at the clearing. Someone takes River’s arm and makes her sit on a rock. 

 

She realizes it’s the Doctor who has his hands resting gently on her shoulders as she sits. She looks up at him. His eyes are round and young, but still surprisingly filled with that ancient concern.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

 

Her hand oozes, the light from the gravity globe gleaming off the blood and the knife. “I’ve had worse.”

 

She tries not to think about how knowingly he nods at that. 

 

He crouches down with the care of a boy tending to an injured bird. River doesn’t bother to figure out whether she finds this patronizing or not, too unfocused to think clearly. 

 

“The Angel then?” He’s gotten his hands on a medpack and she’s trying to figure out when he did until she realizes Amy is right behind him and had probably handed it to him. He ties a short length of rope around River’s arm to slow the bleeding. 

 

“It.. made me think my hand was stone.” River’s words end in a hiss as the Doctor dabs alcohol soaked gauze around the wound. 

 

“So why does that mean you have a knife in your hand?” Amy pipes up. The gravity globe above them dims for a moment and a few clerics announce more incoming statues. Amy adds, “And why does that keep happening to the lights?

 

“It's the Angels. They're coming and they're draining the power for themselves,” the Doctor answers the second question, “Which means we can't stay here.” 

 

His tone is all clever as usual, but his gaze meets River’s and even this young she somehow hears what he wanted to say.  _ This might hurt, but it’s going to be okay, River.  _

 

“Octavian had to stop the hallucination,” River answers Amy’s first question, not taking her eyes off the Doctor. 

 

“By stabbing you?” Amy’s voice rises a few octaves with worry.

 

“Stone doesn't bleed,” the Doctor murmurs, keeping River’s gaze. He’s reached for a bigger wad of gauze.

 

River knows what’s about to happen and the Doctor waits for her nod before he proceeds. She flinches hard when he pulls the knife out, but she clenches her teeth against any sound that might escape her.

 

The Doctor hands the bloodsoaked blade to a mildly horrified Amy as he keeps pressure on River’s wound. “Give that back to Octavian will you?”

 

All Amy can do is nod and do as she’s told. 

 

The Doctor takes his sonic out and points it at River’s hand. She feels the muscle layers start to close as the sonic whirrs it’s familiar tune. It stings, of course, but all she can think about is the touch of an older Doctor’s fingertips searching for the scar.  _ Have we done the Byzantium yet? _

 

When the Doctor lifts the reddened gauze away from her skin nothing more than a bad cut is left. The Doctor moves to properly wrap it. “Sorry, the sonic can only do so much. It’ll leave a scar.”

 

Another memory she didn’t have a moment ago surfaces in her mind. Two years ago and he had run into her in the middle of a flea market, her pockets full of stolen goods. He’d taken her hand and started running because the salesman she’d just burgled had a sword with him and unfortunately keen eyes. Wind and angry shouts rushed in their ears and when they turned a corner and stopped for breath, his hand didn’t leave hers and his thumb traced over where the scar will be.  _ Have we done the Byzantium yet? _

 

She closes her eyes and hears him so close she swears he’s right by her ear. “ _ Can you feel it too?” _

 

Her eyes dart open and he’s sat back on his heels, just as he’d been before with no evidence that he’d been so close at all. River opens her mouth to say something when Amy trots back over with Octavian. 

 

“The statues are advancing on all sides,” the bishop announces. “We don't have the climbing equipment to reach the Byzantium.”

 

“Er, so basically we’re sitting ducks?” Amy fretts.

 

_ There’s always a way out,  _ River thinks. 

 

“There’s always a way out,” the Doctor announces with gravitas. 

 

“No pressure,” River finally finds her voice and it’s the loudest she’s spoken since she screamed. “But this is usually when you have a really good idea, Doctor.” 

 

It’s at that moment that the communicator goes off and Bob’s voice fills the temporary silence. “Doctor? Can I speak to the Doctor, please?”

 

The Doctor jumps to his feet and takes the comms from Octavian. “Hello, Angels. What's your problem?” There he goes again trying to be clever, but River swears there’s some anger in his tone this time. Was he angry at them for hurting her?

 

“Your power will not last much longer, and the Angels will be with you shortly. Sorry, sir,” the boyish threat ends with an apology. 

 

Even River will admit it’s hard to fully take an Angel so seriously when it talks with the voice of a boy. It will take the Doctor a few more years to realize that he has the same effect with his infantile face.  

 

River figures, as the Angel speaks strategically again, that it knows exactly how it sounds. “You told me my fear would keep me alive, but I died afraid, in pain and alone. You made me trust you, and when it mattered, you let me down.”

 

“What are they doing?” Amy whispers to River.

 

“They're trying to make him angry,” she breathes. 

 

Angel Bob continues with a voice that died too young, “I'm sorry, sir. The Angels were very keen for you to know that, sir.”

 

“Well then, the Angels have made their second mistake,” the Doctor squares his shoulders at the communicator. 

 

River gets to her feet as she watches the tension rise in his thin frame. He growls something of a threat back at the creature and she knows exactly what the anger of a good man can do, who it can kill, the worlds it can burn. 

 

It’s all she can do not to intervene. She would have if he wasn’t so young. She doubts he’d listen to her if she tried. No amount of ‘I know what you’re like when your angry’ can possibly be effective when he can counter with ‘And just how do you know that?’. 

 

He doesn’t trust her yet. She’s starting to doubt if she should trust him so young.

 

“Trust me?” The Doctor’s question takes her moment to register as outside her head but luckily Amy replies first with a ‘yes’. 

 

“Trust me?” He repeats the question, looking right at River. She wonders if her bio-dampers are working properly to keep him out of her mind.

 

Maybe it isn’t strictly true for everything. She doesn’t trust him to pick a proper outfit or to cook anything involving more than a tablespoon of oil. She can’t, at this point, trust him to not peak if she leaves her diary somewhere and she’s not at all certain he can handle a conversation remotely relating to her personal life.

 

But this, this isn’t domestic or diplomatic or even analytical. It’s dogmatic and lethal at the same time, which is exactly the moment in any scenario that the Doctor does what the Doctor always does (on a good day at least). He saves people.

 

“Always.”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Doctor remember…” River breathes, “Remember when I out d-drank Jack?”
> 
> “Busy,” he dismisses.
> 
> “That hangover I got? This feels worse.”
> 
> “Course you feel worse. You're dying. Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highkey side-eying moaffat for not addressing river's time sense in this episode

It’s a rough fall even she’ll admit.

 

It certainly takes Amy a while to stand up and there’s a pain in River’s shoulder that’s screaming for her attention. The blood on her uniform, she realizes with relief, is just a leftover wet stain from the knife wound and nothing is actually broken.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks Amy, helping her to her feet.

 

The Doctor is moving Amy's feet the moment she’s got them beneath her and is doing something to the lights—when did the ground have inset lights in it? And since when was it made of metal and not stone?

 

River glances upwards, remembering as Amy starts to question, “What happened?”

 

“We jumped,” River breathes.

 

“Jumped where?”

 

The Doctor juts in sputtering, “Up, up! Look up.”

 

“Where are we?” Amy demands a little more sternly. Well, excuse her if suddenly falling god knows how many feet and nearly breaking her neck makes her unreceptive to single word explanations.

 

River resists the urge to roll her eyes at her young Doctor. Honestly, save all their lives one moment and fail to make full sentences the next. Even this early, it’s so typical of him.  Regardless, River looks up anyways.

 

Semi-formed Weeping Angels stand on the surface 30 meters above their heads, arching up at them with snarling expressions. Some of them have their wings swept back and others reach their limbs out like tangled extremities of an uprooted tree.

 

“Exactly where we were.” River swallows and dreads to think of the lot of them still up there with those creatures. What would they do with a prize like her? A prize like the Doctor?

 

Amy still doesn’t seem to accept this as an answer, though River lets the Doctor stumble his way through a reply that’s much too arrogant.

 

He’s multitasking. He always sounds arrogant when he’s multitasking.

 

River keeps her eyes on the stone creatures. A light bulb pops next to her and she tries not to flinch. It’s only when a panel to the inside of the Byzantium scrapes open that she dares look away from the Angels.

 

The Doctor has already jumped inside she hears his voice echo, “It's just a corridor. The gravity orientates to the floor. Now, in here, all of you. Don't take your eyes off the Angels.”

 

River can hear his voice repeat in her head as she follows Amy inside the relative safety of the ship. _Keep looking. It can't move if you're looking._

 

The corridor is colder than River remembers it from her escape. Piping runs along the round walls down to the interior of the ship and bulkhead doors sit open at even intervals all the way down.

 

“The Angels...” Octavian is the last one inside and poses the question to the Doctor. The later is doing gods know what to a control panel on the wall. “Presumably they can jump too?”

 

A loud thud on the outside of the ship answers Octavian’s question before the Doctor can. At the same time, the closest bulkhead shuts itself, trapping the lot of them between a rock and a hard spot. Literally.

 

“This place is a death trap!” Octavian glares at the Doctor.

 

The Doctor has run to the door and regardless of the fact that it had just locked itself, tries to open it with a useless tug. His arms go up in defeat and he gently puts them back at his sides and he turns around, hoping that no one noticed. “No, it's a time bomb. Well, it's a death trap and a time bomb. And now it's a dead end,” he pauses and adds, “Nobody panic.”

 

Another few clangs cause sparks on the exterior door. River and the soldiers all reach of their guns, facing the door like it were an easily startled cat.

 

“What's through here?” The Doctor points with his sonic. The soldiers all look expectantly at River.

 

“Secondary flight deck,” she supplies, eyes locked on the door.

 

It dawns on River, as the Amy frets about the gravity failing, that no matter how good a shot she is, her bullets aren’t worth a damn on the Angels. It would be a better use of her time to do the other thing she’s good at; being more clever than the Doctor.

 

She turns to the piping along the wall, finding another control panel and getting to work with it quickly. The clerics shift positions to cover her

 

“The security protocols are still live,” she hears the Doctor say. “There's no way to override them. It's impossible.”

 

“How impossible?” she challenges, twisting two wires together. If she can help reroute power to the door, it should open...

 

“Two minutes.”

 

“Ten minutes,” River whispers.

 

The Doctor looks at her but before he can say anything the lights black out. When they come back on, the exterior door is open.

 

River holds her breath as the lights repeat themselves, this time revealing an arm, silhouetted against the open hatch.

 

“Doctor?” Amy trills, “Lights?!”

 

The lights continue to waver. River holds out a wire and the Doctor quickly sonics it. When the lights become steady once more, four Angels stand in the corridor before them. The door has closed behind them.

 

“Don't look at their eyes. Anywhere else. Not the eyes,” the Doctor instructs. “I've isolated the lighting grid. They can't drain the power now.”

Octavian breathes a premature sigh of relief, congratulating the Doctor for his work. River bites her tongue—really, _she_ does the hard bit and all he does is sonic it and still gets the credit.

 

The thought is pushed aside when the Doctor clarifies that the next step requires the lights to go out.  

 

The relief drains off the bishop’s face like wax melting off a candle. “How long for?”

 

“Fraction of a second,” the Doctor mutters and amends almost immediately, “Maybe longer. Maybe quite a bit longer.”

 

“Maybe?” he echoes.

 

“I'm guessing. We're being attacked by statues in a crashed ship—There isn't a _manual_ for this!”

 

Octavian turns to River who is still at work with the wires. “Doctor Song,” he starts in the tone of a man with limited patients—which River has never known him to run out of, even when she sold his sugar mice for a time hopper. “I've lost good Clerics today. You trust this man?”

 

She turns away from the control panel, squaring her jaw and staring straight ahead. “I absolutely trust him.

 

“He's not some kind of madman, then?” Octavian asks expectantly.

 

The Doctor is leaning on the wall next to her as gracefully as he can manage (which is not very much at all) equally curious as Octavian to her answer.

 

“...I absolutely trust him,” River repeats.

 

She swears the Doctor smiles as he turns his attention back to the locked door.  

 

Octavian leans closer, taking up too much of her personal space as he lowers his voice. “I'm taking your word because you're the only one who can manage this guy. But that only works so long as he doesn't know who you are.”

 

River closes her eyes, only to see the Doctor’s face staring back at her from the other side of a space suit.

 

“You cost me any more men, and I might just tell him. Understood?”

 

She meets his eyes and finds the expression of a man who doesn’t bluff. The fact that he’s willing to endanger the timeline proves to her that Octavian doesn’t fully understand the weight they carry.

 

Or maybe he knows exactly how much they do.

 

“Understood.”

 

* * *

  

It takes them a few bulkheads and many bullets before they reach the flight deck. River and the Doctor situate themselves with the controls as the clerics secure all the doors with magnetizers.

 

Despite the effort, the Angels still turn the handles after the doors are secure earning nothing less than a look of horror from Octavian.

 

“Now you’re getting it,” the Doctor somewhat exults. “You’ve bought us time, though. That’s good.”

 

“We’re surrounded,” River murmurs. There are wires everywhere and she’s got a good handful of them as she tries to reboot the computer systems.

 

“How long have we got?” Octavian asks.

 

The Doctor and River both answer at the same time, though River says “Nine,” whereas the Doctor answers “Five.”

 

The three of them look at each other for a minute until the Doctor repeats himself more sternly. “Five minutes.”

 

“Five, right I know,” River agrees, slightly puzzled.

 

“Why’d you say nine?” He narrows his eyes slightly.

 

She shakes her head. “Miscalculation. We need another way out of here.”

 

“There isn’t one,” Octavian huffs.

 

“Yeah, there is. Course there is,” the Doctor corrects. “This is a galaxy class ship—goes for years between planet falls. So, what do they need?”

 

River perks up as she realizes what he means, “Of course!”

 

“‘Of course what? What do they need?” Amy crosses her arms. River really doesn’t mean to make her feel slow, that affect just sort of happens what she’s near humans.

 

The Doctor is examining the walls opposite the doors and moving crates out of the way. “This whole wall should slide up... There are clamps! Release the clamps. “

 

“What's through there? What do they need?” Amy asks again.

 

“They need to breathe,” River says.

 

The wall slides up at that moment revealing the luscious oxygen factory in question.

 

“But it’s a… It’s,” Amy is at a loss for words, her eyes wide with startled wonder. “It’s a forest!”

 

“Yeah, it's a forest,” River hums. The Doctor’s smugness must be contagious because she feels it latching onto her desire to impress a young Amy. “It's an oxygen factory. And if we're lucky an escape eight.”

 

Amy frowns slightly at that. “What did you say?”

 

“An escape route,” River repeats.

 

“Scan the architecture,” the Doctor orders. “We don't have time to get lost in there.”

 

“On it.” Octavian nods, going all drill sergeant again. “Stay where you are until I've checked the rad levels.”

 

Amy scoots a little closer to the Doctor, still bewildered at the amount of green hiding among the metal scaffolds of a ship. “But trees? On a spaceship?”

 

“Oh, more than trees. Way better than trees. You're going to love this,” the Doctor jumps at the opportunity to impress Amy Pond, just as River had. He skips over to the closest tree and pulls back some moss on its trunk, revealing a mass of glowing wiry tubes. “Tree-borgs! Trees plus technology!”

 

Amy simply gawks at the scaths of plants going who knows how far back into the shroud of mist where Octavian has plodded off into.

 

“Branches become cables become sensors on the hull.” The Doctor continues, locking eyes with River. “A forest sucking in starlight, breathing out air. It even rains! There's a whole mini-climate. This vault is an ecopod running right through the heart of the ship. A forest in a bottle on a spaceship in a maze. Have I impressed you yet, River Song?”

 

Amy turns back to look at River, who already knows all of this. River shrugs. “Seven.”

 

“Seven?” The Doctor carefully places himself back into the flight deck and strides right up to her, looking at both her eyes like he might find they were different colors.

 

River frowns in confusion. “Seven what?”

 

“ _You_ said seven,” the Doctor clarifies.

 

“No. I didn't.”

 

“Yes you did,” Amy agrees as Octavian returns with a location for the primary flight deck.

 

River steels herself and turns pointedly back to her work on the wires. She’s had enough of not being in control of herself today. If the Angel still isn’t done messing with her mind after the stunt it pulled with her hand… well, she simply won’t let it. Surely she can block it out of her mind if she concentrates?

 

As if on cue, the Doctor’s communicator goes off. “Doctor? Excuse me? Hello, Doctor? Angel Bob here, sir.”

 

“Ah,” the Doctor once more switches to some form of know-it-all and puts himself down into the dusty commander’s chair in the middle of the flight deck. “There you are, Angel Bob. How's life? Sorry, bad subject.” He glances at Amy, hoping she appreciates the joke.

 

“The Angels are wondering what you hope to achieve,” the Angel says calculatedly.

 

“Achieve? We're not achieving anything. We're just hanging.” His eyes dart to River then a few other nondescript spots in the room to make sure she didn’t think he was staring. “It's nice in here. Consoles, comfy chairs, a forest— How're things with you?”

 

“The Angels are feasting, sir. Soon we will be able to absorb enough power to consume this vessel, this world. and all the stars and worlds beyond.”

 

River wonders if the creature is stalling or if it’s just so pleased with itself that it can’t help but share.

 

“Well,” the Doctor glances at River again, almost certainly having the same thoughts. “We've got comfy chairs. Did I mention?”

 

“We have no need of comfy chairs.”

 

“I made him say comfy chairs,” the Doctor preens.

Amy is quick to laugh at this, and even River chuckles at the banter the Doctor insists on having in the middle of this mess. “Six.”

 

“Okay, Bob, enough chat.” He stands up suddenly and River’s smile drops off her face. “Here's what I want to know. What have you done to River?

 

“There is something in her eye,” the Angel doesn’t miss a beat.

 

The Doctor strides over to River, apparently forgetting the meaning of personal space (which would be fine by her under any other circumstance) as he scrutinizes her eyes. “What's in her eye?”

 

“We are.”

 

“What the hell is he talking about, Doctor?” River says more quietly than she means to. “I'm five... Fine. I’m fine.”

 

“You're counting,” Amy points out, slightly pleased to have figured this out and say it before the Doctor, but concerned nonetheless.

 

“Counting?” River tries to ignore the way her hearts beat a little faster and the starring of clerics, instead focusing on the Doctor so close to her face.

 

“You're counting down from ten,” he murmurs. “You have been since we jumped.”

 

“Well…” Apparently getting stabbed in the hand wasn’t going to be the worst of her day. “Counting down to what?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“We shall take her,” Angel Bob drones, and now it really does feel like gloating. “We shall take all of you. We shall have dominion over all time and space.”

 

“Get a life, Bob,” the Doctor mutters into the communicator. “There's power on this ship, but nowhere near _that_ much.”

“With respect, sir,” Angel Bob starts, “There's more power on this ship than you yet understand.”

 

The Angel’s words are followed by a sudden screeching, so loud that the room shakes. Whoever said nails on a chalkboard were bad is having it easy.

 

River moves to cover her ears but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. In fact, it only makes the horrid noise louder. She glances desperately at the others, only slightly relieved to see their cringes prove it isn’t completely in her head. “What's that? Dear Gods, what is it?”

 

The Angel takes the liberty of answering. “It's hard to put in your terms, River Song, but as best I understand it, the Angels are laughing.”

 

The screeching stops. River tries and fails to remember when she ever told Bob her name.

 

* * *

 

There are three kinds of idiots in this world.

 

The first is the kind who dresses terribly and doesn’t know the difference between flirtation and death threats. The second is the kind who never reads the instructions, then complains when things go wrong. The third sees a crack in the fabric of space-time and—instead of running like the rest of them reasonably do—says, ‘I think I’ll poke this with a stick.’

 

The Doctor manages to be all three at the same time.

 

“It was the same shape,” Amy keeps repeating. “It was the crack from my bedroom as a little girl.” She’s been a explaining this to River for a few minutes now—how the Doctor crashed in her front garden and how an alien hid in her house in a secret room for twelve years.

 

River has to remind herself to nod and say ‘and then what’ at the appropriate times. She’s heard this story at least twice before, both times in her last face—not that she can tell Amy any of that. And of course, there’s also the fact that she knows exactly what’s causing the cracks and can’t mention that either.

 

A headache presses down on River once she starts thinking about the Pandorica. It’s supposed to be in a separate universe but the Doctor, this Doctor, hasn’t done that yet, which makes them in the original universe.

 

Trying to figure out which timeline is which just makes the headache worse.

 

The trees start to bend and River is sure that trees aren’t supposed to do that, especially with no wind. She stumbles a few steps an nearly rams herself into a tree, catching herself instead and stopping as she leans against the trunk.

 

“River?” Amy hurries to her side. “River what’s wrong?”

 

“Uh… just a little…four...” River tries to say but the sentence ends with her turning away to avoid getting vomit on Amy’s shoes as she wretches. Panting, she lowers herself to the forest floor and lies down.

 

“Hey!” Amy shouts at the soldiers. “One of you help us! I think Doctor Song is sick. Do we have a first aid kit or something?”

 

“We can't stay here,” Octavian orders. “We've got to keep moving.”

 

“Does she _look_ like she can move right now?” Amy glares and Octavian doesn’t dare challenge the Scott again.

 

Someone says something about a medpack and hands Amy what looks like a blood pressure cuff. She bites her lip and hopes that whatever the device is, it works the same way it does on 21st century Earth.

 

She puts the cuff around River’s arm as she’d seen Rory do many times before. Information pops up on the end Amy is holding and she looks a little lost. “Does anyone know how to read this thing?”

 

“I do.”

 

All heads turn to the source of the voice. The Doctor stands almost directly behind Octavian and has somehow lost his coat. “Bishop, the Angels are in the forest,” he announces, strolling over to Amy and River.

 

“We need visual contact on every line of approach,” the bishop orders.

 

“How did you get past them?” River asks weakly, eyes half shut.

 

“I found a crack in the wall and told them it was the end of the universe.”

 

“What was it?” Amy asks.

 

“The end of the universe.” He takes the device from Amy to read it. “ Let's have a look, then.”

 

“So, what's wrong with her? She’s fine right?”

 

“No, she’s dying.”

 

“Doctor!” Amy hisses.

 

“Yes, you're right. If we lie to her, she'll get all better. Right, no it’s fine. She can’t die here.” He puts the device down in a hurry, pretending he’s not panicking and not doing a very good job at it.

 

He leaps to his feet and starts pacing. “River, River, what's the matter with River Song? Something's in her eye. What does that mean? Does it mean anything?”

 

“Doctor remember…” River breathes, “Remember when I out d-drank Jack?”

 

“Busy,” he dismisses.

 

“That hangover I got? This feels worse.”

 

“Course you feel worse. You're dying. Shut up.”

 

River quiets herself only because nausea surges up again and not because he told her to.

 

 _Have we done the Byzantium yet?_ The new memories are still fresh and clear in her mind, but somehow don’t feel real anymore. He wouldn’t have asked her that if she dies, would he?

 

A flash of something more recent makes itself known. Last week when she broke her parole to see him and told him of the mission she was assigned.

 

 _I wish you wouldn’t go_ . He’d said, pulling her close. _It'll be dangerous._ This had been followed by banter but now as River remembers, he’d looked at her like it might be the last time he saw her.

 

Suddenly all the ‘ _have we done the Byzantium_ ’s are as far away as dreams.

 

The Doctor is still talking, ranting and pacing like the world depends on it, and it very well might. Two soldiers announce incoming Angels.

 

River tells herself she’s not afraid.

 

“Come on, come on. Wakey, wakey,” he blabbers on. “She watched an Angel climb out of the screen. She stared at the Angel and, and…”

 

“The image of an Angel is an Angel,” Amy adds in hopes of being helpful.

“A living mental image in a living human mind. We stare at them to stop them getting closer. We don't even blink, and that is exactly what they want. Because as long as our eyes are open, they can climb inside. There's an Angel in her mind!”

 

Amy gapes and the Doctor resists the urge to cover his mouth, though his expression of shock says enough.

“Three.” River whispers. “What do you mean it’s inside me?”

 

“Inside your head, in the vision centers of your brain, there's an Angel. It's like there's a screen, a virtual screen inside your mind and the Angel is climbing out of it, and it's coming to... shut you off.”

 

“Then what I do?”

 

“If it was a real screen, what would we do? We'd pull the plug. We'd kill the power. But we can't just knock you out, the Angel would just take over.”

 

“Then what? Quickly!” Amy urges, picking up the scanner.

“We've got to shut down the vision centers of her brain. We've got to pull the plug. Starve the Angel.”

 

“Doctor,” Amy warns, “The scanner thingy is beeping and red. That’s bad. Is that bad?”

 

“How would you starve your lungs?” he asks, ignoring the beeping.

 

“Um...I'd stop breathing,” Amy offers.

 

“River, close your eyes.”

 

“What?” River looks offended at the mere suggestion. “I’ll be completely defenseless. I don't want to.”

 

“Good, because that's not you, that's the Angel inside you.” He’s in front of her again hands fluttering wildly until one of them settles on her hair. “It's afraid. Do it. Close your eyes.”

 

 _I wish you wouldn’t go_ . He’d said a week ago. They were curled up in the bed and his arms wrapped tighter around her as she turned to face him. _It'll be dangerous._ He had looked at her like he’d never see her beautiful green eyes again.

 

“It’s green again. Oh, thank god.” Amy informs on an exhale. “That’s good, right? She’s okay now?”

 

“No. I’m not.” River mutters as she sits up. The headache is gone and she can breathe a little easier. “Not really. I can’t open my eyes again or I’ll die.”

 

“What?” Any note of accomplishment drains out of Amy’s tone.

 

“We haven't stopped the Angel,” the Doctor sighs. “We've just sort of paused it…”

 

“Brilliant plan,” River huffs and hopes the Doctor flinches at the sting of her tone. “Leave me _blind_ in a forest full of Weeping Angels where being able to see is our only saving grace. Really, you’ve outdone yourself.”

 

“Plan A had you leaving in a body bag, so tell me which you‘d prefer,” he shoots back.

 

“Doctor, we're too exposed here.” Octavian pipes up from his position nearby. “We have to move on.”

 

“We're too exposed _everywhere_.” The Doctor points out. “And River can't move. And anyway, that's not the plan.”

 

“Oh, you have a better one do you?” River raises an eyebrow in his direction.

 

“I don't know yet. I haven't finished talking. Right! Father, you and your Clerics, you're going to stay here, look after River. If anything happens to her, I'll hold every single one of you personally responsible, twice. Amy—you, me, and Octavian—we're going to find the Primary Flight Deck which is…”

 

River hears him pause and she’s sure he’s doing something he thinks makes him look clever like licking his finger and holding it to the non-existent wind.

 

“A quarter of a mile straight ahead, and from there we're going to stabilize the wreckage, stop the Angels, and cure River.”

 

“How?” River challenges.

 

“I'll do a thing,” he sounds a little closer now.

 

“What thing?”

 

“I don't know. It's a thing in progress. Respect the thing. Moving out!”

 

“Wait!” River tries to stand, loses her balance, and grabs on to the closest thing which happens to be Amy’s hand. Once standing straight she turns to where she hopes the Doctor is. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

 

“You’d slow us down, River. You can’t see,” the Doctor says a little too gently.

 

“Immodesty forbid, but I think I’d really speed you up,” she growls.

 

“You'll be safe here,” he tries a little more seriously. “We can't protect you on the move. I'll be back for you soon as I can, I promise.”

 

“I may be blind now, Doctor, but I’m not some damsel in distress. And blind or not I’m still a better asset than Octavian could be to you.”

 

“And,” Octavian adds in a tone clearly trying not to be offended at what River said. “I need to stay with Doctor Song if she’s staying here.”

 

“I’m not staying here,” River insists.

 

“Where Doctor Song goes, I go,” Octavian concludes.

 

“What?” The Doctor sounds quite put off by this and pauses for a long time. River can imagine him looking between her and Octavian with an expression he doesn't think is jealousy. “You two engaged or something?

 

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.” Octavian answers and River doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt for the way the Doctor deflates. “Take Crispin and Pedro with you instead. I’ll make sure Doctor Song doesn’t open her eyes.”

 

Before River can protest further, the Doctor takes her pocket scanner and feet move passed her and the forest grows quiet.

 

There are four kinds of idiots in this world. The Doctor manages to be all four at the same time.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, sir,” Octavian’s tone remains level. “Doctor Song is keeping me comfortable, though. She’s telling me a story.”
> 
> “A story?”
> 
> “The story of a good man.” River is sure Octavian is looking right at her as he says this. “A hero to many. And something very special to someone who doesn’t know she deserves it.”

It takes a long few minutes, but River bullies Octavian into giving her his communicator. She may be blind, possibly for the rest of her life, but she isn’t going to be useless.

 

The Doctor doesn’t seem to have much of a problem with her having done this when he answers his comms. Mostly, River suspects, because he realized he needs her to walk him through how to use her pocket scanner.

 

Idiot.

 

“Now, press enter and it’ll be calibrated.”

 

“Ah, it’s working!” The Doctor trumpets through the comms.

 

“Of course it’s working.” She would have rolled her eyes if she could.

 

“I’m getting readings on the crack.”

 

“The crack in the wall that’s also the end of the universe?” River says carefully, knowing that he has to figure the rest out himself.

 

“Here's what I think,” he reports like he’s trying to get a thesis approved by her. “One day there's going to be a very big bang. So big every moment in history, past and future, will crack.”

 

“Is that possible?” She can hear herself going teacher on him, but a push in the right direction will help him. “How?”

 

“How can you be engaged, in a manner of speaking?”

 

River sighs. And to think she might have almost forgiven him for being an idiot. Instead, she goes all temptress on him and purrs back in a way that usually makes him squirm, “Sucker for a man in uniform, sweetie.”

 

Silence follows on the Doctor’s end except for a faint, “Doctor, have you gone red?” from Amy.

 

River looks pleased with herself until Octavian grabs the communicator from her hand and corrects the situation. “Doctor Song is in my personal custody. I released her from the Stormcage Containment Facility four days ago and I am legally responsible for her until she's accomplished her mission and earned her pardon. Just so we understand each other.”

 

River huffs and holds her hand out. Octavian reluctantly places the comms back in her grasp.

 

“You were in Stormcage?” The Doctor seems to find his voice, only to be interrupted by a chirp from the pocket scanner.

 

“Did it pick something up?” she asks.

 

“The date. The date of the explosion, where the crack begins.”

 

“And for those of us who can't see what’s on the screen?” River prompts.

 

Before any answer can be provided, static fills the comms.

 

* * *

 

“There never was a Marco on this mission, Doctor Song,” Octavian insists. “The Angel is messing with your head again.”  

 

“No, I _heard_ you,” River pushes back. “Before you sent Philip, you sent Marco, and now you can't even remember them. Something happened. They must have gotten too close to the crack.”

 

“Phillip?” Octavian frowns.

 

“Yeah, before you sent Phillip.”

 

“Who's Phillip?”

 

River pinches her nose. She can deal with an idiot, but not an idiot who won’t listen to her. “Octavian, it’s a crack in space _time._ I’ve seen enough times to know—we have to start moving now. There's Time Energy spilling out of that crack, and we have to stay ahead of it.”

 

“There are Angels everywhere, Doctor Song,” Octavian murmurs. “I’m not so comfortable moving you on my own.”

 

“We wouldn’t be alone if your men weren't idiots,” she bites under her breath. Louder she says, ”Well, the Angels can only kill you.”

 

“Say I believe you. What does the Time Energy do?”

 

“If the Time Energy catches up with you, you'll never have been born. It will erase _every_ moment of your existence. You will never have lived _at all_ ,” she says this all quickly, sparing no details—fear is ever so useful as a motivator.  

 

Unfortunately, it’s fairly good at doing the opposite. “But the Angels—”

 

“Never mind the Angels!” River snaps. “There's worse here than Angels, can’t you understand that?”

 

It’s not exactly silence that follows. The forest isn’t quiet, to begin with—the sounds of wires and creaking wood make up most of the ambient sounds. There is also, River notices alarmingly, stone scraping on stone.

 

It’s then that she realizes Octavian hasn’t said a word.

 

She draws her gun as he finally chokes out, “I beg to differ.”

 

River holds her breath, her shoulders tense with the expectation that stone hands will wrap around her throat at any moment. “Why aren’t you dead yet?”

 

“It’s holding me tight, Doctor Song,” he answers. From the way he strains, she can guess that the Angel is holding him around the neck.

 

“Can you wriggle out?”

 

There’s a moment where Octavian grunts before shaking his head. “No, it's too tight. You have to leave me. There's nothing you can do.”

 

“Leave you?” River gawks with panic. “I can’t even—” She stops herself before she can say _‘see’_.

 

She can’t see. And Octavian isn’t dead yet.

 

Something must be triggering the Angel’s quantum lock and she has a feeling it’s her.

 

“It's going to kill me anyway,” Octavian breathes. “Think it through. There's no way out of this. You have to leave me.

 

“I’ll be sooner dead myself. You're dead if I leave you.”

 

“Yes. Yes, I'm dead. And before you go—”

 

“I'm _not_ going.” River steels.

 

“I just want to know, River. Why did you kill him?

 

“Kill who?” she asks, though she knows exactly whom he’s referring to. Her gun is leveled in his direction, though she has no way of knowing if she’d hit Octavian with a shot. Maybe he’d rather that instead of a broken neck.

 

“The Doctor. You said you trusted him. You once told me you loved him. It that true?”

 

River exhales slowly. The man she’d know for years is dying in front of her and she can’t even give him the decency of a proper witness. “No one’s ever believed it when I’ve told the truth.”

 

“Then tell me.” It sounds like _confess._ “A dying man can keep secrets, you know.”

 

And a dying woman can spill them, she thinks.

 

“I was forced to do it. Madame... the Church forced me to do it.”

 

“No wonder you weren’t so keen on me when we met.”

 

“I’m still not.” River almost laughs and for the moment is glad she can't see his face. “The Church needed a vessel and… well, let's just say they had a flair for the dramatic. On the head of every living thing in this universe my love was tested—it was him or everything.”

 

“And you would have chosen him?”

 

“I _did_ choose him,” she breathes. “And the universe reaped the consequences. He’s a good man, Octavian. He couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes, so we fixed it together. And I killed him.”

 

She swears she hears him smile when he says, “Not the ruthless killer everyone makes you out to be, then, Doctor Song. I knew my faith in you was not misguided.” And she doesn’t have the hearts to tell him how wrong he is.

 

“River?” The Doctor’s voice comes scratchy through the comms. “River are you there?”

 

She hears Octavian shift to hand her the device. She puts her gun away—it would’ve been useless anyway—and carefully reaches forwards until her hand comes in contact with the communicator.

 

“I’m here, Doctor,” River says into the comms as she maintains her best seeing-person’s face.

 

“Where are you? Are the Clerics with you?”

 

“The Clerics are gone,” River swallows. “They walked into the light. And Octavian… uh…” she hesitates, not sure how to describe the situation.

 

“I’m as good as dead, sir,” Octavian provides. “There’s an Angel around my neck, sir. I’ll be dead when Doctor Song leaves.”

 

There is a beat is silence before the Doctor says lowly, “River, I'm sorry, I made a mistake. I should never have left you there.”

 

“How are my Clerics?” Octavian asks.

 

“Dead here too, I’m afraid,” the Doctor admits. “Necks snapped. I’m sorry Octavian, I really am… Are you sure there’s no way for you to get out?”

 

“No, sir,” Octavian’s tone remains level. “Doctor Song is keeping me comfortable, though. She’s telling me a story.”

 

“A story?”

 

“The story of a good man.” River is sure Octavian is looking right at her as he says this. “A hero to many. And something very special to someone who doesn’t know she deserves it.”

 

There is some more silence before the Doctor whispers, “Are you ready?”

 

“I will die in the knowledge that my courage did not desert me at the end. For that, I thank God, and bless the path that takes you to safety.” He pauses and River has a feeling he’s addressing her now. “I have faith and I have I feeling that you do too.”

 

“You know I’ve never believed in any god,” River manages quietly.

 

“I wasn’t talking about Him.”

 

She hears a thud on the ground before any words manage to make their way out of her mouth. Stone moves on stone again and she realizes the Angel has figured out she wasn’t really looking at it.

 

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispers into the comms, not sure if they’re on or not. Instinctively and with not many other options, she stumbles back and ducks down defensively, curling in on herself.

 

The hum of the cybernetic trees curls around the twisted paths of the forest as the moments pass and the sound of grinding stone dissipates into the distance.

 

“River?” The voice on the comms is hardly loud enough to be a whisper. “River are you there?”

 

“Not dead yet,” River answers in the same tone, quite confused that she’s alive enough to respond. “Why aren’t I dead?”

 

“I'm sending a bit of software to your communicator,” the Doctor says promptly followed by the sound of his sonic. “It's a proximity detector. It'll beep if there's something in your way and it’ll warn you if there are Angels. You just maneuver 'till the beeping stops.”

 

Slowly, River gets to her feet. The communicator in her hand is beeping steadily. “Is the Angel… is it gone?”

 

“I think so,” the Doctor confirms. “The comms isn't picking it up. It must have ran.”

 

“Ran?” River frowns.

 

“The Angels are running from the fire. They came here to feed on the Time Energy, now it's going to feed on them,” he’s talking more quickly now. “River, listen to me, you have to come to us. The Primary Flight Deck, the other end of the forest.”

 

“I can't see, Doctor. I can't open my eyes.”

 

A pause, the sound of the sonic, and then, “Turn on the spot.”

“Sorry, what?”

 

“Just do it. Turn on the spot!” He demands and she tries not to flinch at his tone. “When the communicator sounds like my screwdriver, that means you're facing the right way. Follow the sound.”

 

“And if I die trying?” River asks softly, turning until the comms makes the right sound.

 

She holds her breath as she’s met with silence.

 

This is it, isn’t it? All those times he looked at her like she was already gone—this was why. It isn’t just the new memories that have been popping up, but the old ones too. The look of pain he thinks he hides so well when she teases him about life and death. _You and your secrets, Doctor. You’ll be the death of me._

 

This must be why.

 

“You have to start walking now,” he says, voice low. “And I’m sorry, but you're going to have to walk like you can see.”

 

River says nothing and does for once as she’s told.

 

She walks in relative silence for a while, clutching the comms to her the bloodied fabric on chest and avoiding trees as gracefully as she can manage.

 

Amy takes over the comms after a while, deciding that some light conversation would be appreciated. She explains to River what they’ve been doing since they split up: the Clerics being taken, the mess of a computer system they found, and the teleport the Doctor insists won’t work.

 

“Does it really erase you from existence? The Time Energy?” Amy asks

 

“Yes,” River nods. “Like you’ve never been born.”

 

“But the clerics that were with you, they got erased, yeah? I can still remember them.”

 

“Octavian couldn’t. But you’re a time traveler and he’s not.”

 

“What does time traveling have to do with it?” Amy queries.

 

River smiles weakly. “It changes the way you see the universe, Amy. For the better, I hope.”

 

She can practically hear Amy smile as she wanders back to the topic of the crack. “The crack is just going to keep growing, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” River sighs.

 

“How do we stop it?”

 

“Em, well it’s sort of made of time, so a big, complicated space-time event should shut it up for a while.”

 

“Like what? How are we going to get our hands on that?

 

River stops dead in her tracks. “Hand me to the Doctor, right now.”

 

Amy does so and there’s another long beat of silence before the Doctor murmurs, “You can’t stop me, River.”

 

“Like hell, I can’t,” she growls at him. “Don’t you dare throw yourself in.”

 

There’s an alarmed ‘what!?’ from Amy in the background but they both ignore her.

 

“What else would you have me do, River? It’ll consume everything—whole planets, probably this whole galaxy if it’s not stopped here!”

 

“You’re not the only complicated space-time event here, sweetie. If anyone is getting thrown into the fire, I won’t be you.”

 

“Please, River,” he scoffs and she squares her jaw. “Be serious. Compared to me, these Angels are more complicated than you, and it would take every one of them to amount to me.”

 

“It’s going to take you years to realize just how wrong you are,” she hisses. When he says nothing she adds, “You do understand, our timelines are irreversibly intertwined. If you get unwritten, so do I—”

 

“Spoilers—”

 

“No!” She snaps. “Screw spoilers. If you get unwritten then So. Do. I.” She bites out the last three words like she’s carving them into stone. He won’t remember anyways if she gets erased. “And there’s no point in us _both_ dying today.”

 

Pointedly, she turns around and faces the curtain of light she knows is hovering somewhere behind her. At the same moment, the comms start beeping urgently.

 

“Doctor?” She whispers.

 

“It's a warning,” he answers solemnly. ”There are Angels around you now. Turn back around and walk like you can see. The Angels are scared and running, and right now they're not that interested in you.”

 

“I’m not coming to you, Doctor. One of us has to walk into that crack and it’s going to be me.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, River! Just come to us and we’ll figure this out.”

 

She doesn’t flinch. “No.”

 

The comms go static for a moment before Angel Bob’s voice comes over both lines. “The Time Field is coming. It will destroy our reality.”

 

“We’ve already covered that, thanks,” River huffs.

 

“There is a rupture in time.” Bob continues. “The Angels calculate that if you throw yourself into it, it will close, and—”

 

“I _know,_ ” River interrupts, exasperated. “We’ve gone over already. I’m going in—and for the record, it’s not to save any one of you, its to save everyone else.”

 

“You’re not going in, River,” comes the Doctor’s voice. “I can't let you do this.”

 

“You're not going to die here if I can help it.”

 

His next words come from her left and not out of the comms. “ _No one_ is going to die if I can help it.”

 

Startled, she jumps and very nearly hits him in the face. “How did you—?”

 

“Shut up and hang on!” He grabs her arm and drags her to the closest tree.

 

As he does, the ground beneath them seems to lurch sideways. River’s feet fall out from beneath her and the Doctor clings to her wrists to keep her from plummeting.

 

Stone cracks around them, sharp fragments of rock scraping and bruising the two of them on their way down into the light.

 

River opens her eyes and looks up at the idiot who happens to be the only thing between her and never having existed. “I hate you.”

 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

River stares intensely at the place the scar on her hand should have been. There’s nothing there now except uninterrupted, smooth skin.

 

“You’re an idiot, you know,” she sighs.

 

The Doctor stands next to her, looking out over the rocky beach with pride, though it’s more humble than she gives credit for. “And everyone’s alive. I think it’s a fair trade.”

 

River glances behind her where Octavian and the other clerics are breaking down the tents and boxing up equipment. “The prison ship's in orbit,” she murmurs absently. “They'll beam me up any second. I might have done enough to earn a pardon this time. We'll see.”

 

The Doctor nods knowingly and looks right at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Octavian said you told him a story.”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“The story of a good man,” he adds.

 

“A very good man.” She glances up at him only to find him looking back, eyes swimming with the gentle curiosity of a man who’s lived too long and still wants to help. “The best man I've ever known.”

 

“Who?” The word falls from his lips as quiet as the waves slowly rocking against the shore.

 

“It's a long story. Doctor,” she chuckles. “It can't be told, it has to be lived.”

 

He leans in close his breath tickles the shell on her ear. “And here I was hoping you'd say ‘spoilers’. I like that word.”

 

“I thought you might,” she hums, trying to keep from smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

 

He pulls away, just far enough so he can look at her face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

“You first, sweetie.”

 

He reaches his hand up and adjusts his bowtie. She tries not to dwell on how much she wishes that hand were on her cheek instead. “Time can be rewritten.”

 

Somewhere in space, about week prior, a blue box floats by. Inside the Doctor laid on a bed with his wife curled up next to him as she explained the two options she had for her mission next week.

 

_“It’s either a ship called the Byzantium or some planet called the Library. Can’t do both, but I bet I could save one for later.”_

 

 _“I wish you wouldn’t go_ .” His arms wrapped tighter around her as she turned to face him. “ _It'll be dangerous.”_

 

 _“That’s what I’m counting on, sweetie.”_ She wondered if she was imagining the worry in his face. _“But if it makes you feel better, why don’t you pick which I do now and which I do later?”_

  
_“I choose here.”_ He kissed her neck and buried his face in her curls. “ _I choose you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you liked and what you didn't by leaving a comment :D


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